


Numerous

by RayneSummer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Connor, Drabbles, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Validation, but more comfort, father and son times, feelings are valid, fight me w respect and support abt it, number prompt list
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-19 12:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayneSummer/pseuds/RayneSummer
Summary: Five drabbles from a number prompt list, focused on moments between Hank and Connor.





	1. 85. "Take my jacket, it's cold outside."

Connor sighed as he stood up from looking in the fridge and glanced over at Hank who was lounging on the sofa with Sumo. The big dog was actually half off the couch, his nose tucked into his owner’s side and his back end and tail hanging off the furniture. It was pretty cute.

But Connor had more important things to deal with right now than an adorable dog.

“Lieutenant, we—”

“Hank,” the man grunted without turning his head, but Connor could guess he was rolling his eyes or something.

“We, Hank, seem to have a lower stock of both food and thirium than I expected in my cursory check,” Connor said, consulting his internal calendar to ensure he was right in the days he had decided to check their stock of items.

Hank scratched Sumo behind the ears. “It’s called living, kid,” he replied simply.

Connor nodded patiently though he wasn’t being looked at. “I know that. I was just informing you so you would not proceed to ask the obvious question if we are out of items after I announce that I am going out.”

There was a pause, so Connor added, “I am going out, to the store, now.”

Hank said, “Are we out of _items_?” In a deliberately poor mockery of Connor’s neutral voice. The android didn’t even bother frowning.

Instead, he hid a smile as he walked towards the front door, passing the back of the sofa close enough to briefly reach out and pet the most available part of Sumo’s huge body before he got to the entrance.

“Goodbye, Hank, I will be back shortly,” he said smoothly, reaching for the door handle.

“Hang on a second.” Hank straightened up and gestured at the hooks on the wall near the door. Connor raised an eyebrow in question.

“Do you wish for me to pick something else up as well as our normal stock of items?” He asked, dropping a hand from the door handle and patiently waited for Hank to explain.

“No – as long as you stop callin’ it a fuckin’ _stock_.” Hank sighed. “We don’t live in a goddamn store.”

Connor nodded. He didn’t understand why such small differences in words mattered, but if Hank asked and it was reasonable, there was no reason not to amend his vocabulary slightly. The issue had been met with a pleasing look from the lieutenant before when Connor had changed some of his usual words for more… human or just normal-sounding ones.

Hank pointed more obviously to the hat hooks. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside,” he said, as if it was the most normal thing to say.

“Androids can’t get cold—”

“Uh-uh. _Deviants_ do,” Hank interrupted, in a better impression of Connor’s (old) voice.

Connor thought for a second. “It would take a critically low temperature or persistent exposure to fairly cold weather for the temperature to have an actual effect on any part of an android’s physiology,” he amended.

A glance showed him that Hank was giving him a look that suggested he shut up.

Mostly because he could talk about android physiology and biology and specific temperatures of Detroit in winter, and Hank would not listen to anything properly.

So he just waited with expectation, not bothering to try and exit again yet.

“Connor,” Hank said, “Take the fucking jacket and go get your juice.”

He just nodded, retrieved the lieutenant’s jacket from its peg, and opened the door. Sumo lifted his head at the sound in case a walk was on offer, but Connor shook his head regretfully at the dog before smiling and bidding goodbye again.

Hank patted the big dog’s head after the door closed. “What an idiot,” he huffed affectionately. Sumo yawned in agreement.

Outside, a cold wind blew around the warm house.


	2. 17. "This is going to hurt."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partly inspired by that recent-ish episode of Brooklyn 99 where Amy tries to go after a suspect and dislocates her knee which Rosa fixes with surprising medical knowledge.

 

“Why’d you go after him in the first place?”

Connor huffed out a sigh that was more worried than actually frustrated, and glanced up at Hank’s face from where he kneeling next to the lieutenant.

The man shrugged, wincing as even that movement twinged his injured knee.

“Dunno, maybe because you’re always runnin’ off into some kind of fucking danger or another and I got sick of lagging behind.” Possibly it was intended to be sarcastic or scathing, but it was actually the truth and that showed through when Hank avoided Connor’s steady gaze, glowering at the horizon instead.

Connor thought about his options. Hank was a particularly stubborn individual and was one of those people who did not consider hospitals places to actually go when injured.

(Something that Connor didn’t bring up very often at all since the exact same point could be used on him.)

He also didn’t like taking time off work, which would be forced if this incident was reported properly.

And, despite his previous habits which very much included some kind of lying around not doing anything – though admittedly most of that was only after drinking himself into unconsciousness – Hank didn’t actually prefer sitting around and doing nothing for too long.

“You’re lucky you only dislocated your knee,” Connor said, with an edge of annoyance to let Hank know he didn’t appreciate the stunt.

Hank rolled his eyes, keeping his body as still as possible. “You can fuckin’ talk.”

“I can, and I suggest we contact—”

“No, look, we don’t need to bring anyone else in. I’ll get it set, it’ll be fine, and everything will be dandy in the morning,” Hank interrupted firmly. He moved and grimaced, trying not to grit his teeth in pain as Connor watched him with a knowing look.

There was a pause. They were lucky it was late and no one was around to wonder what an older man was doing sitting on a wall with a concerned android crouched by his side.

“Alright,” Connor finally said, ignoring the surprised and grateful look Hank shot him in favour of putting his hands carefully on the injured knee.

“What’re you—”

“This is going to hurt,” he warned, and twisted.

Hank let out a yelp that could rival Sumo’s when surprised, and hissed through gritted teeth, cursing under his breath as he tried to straighten the offending leg. It still ached fiercely but the burning pain had mostly gone and he could move it. That was the most important thing.

He gave Connor, who now stood beside him expectantly, a stiff nod. The android just nodded back, accepting the non-verbal thanks.

Then he tried to stand, using the wall for support. Pain flared but it wasn’t nearly as bad as before, and the leg supported most of his weight – as well as Connor taking hold of his arm to help.

They slowly began walking down the street, Hank limping and muttering curses as Connor walked carefully beside him, ready to assist if needed but not imposing if not.

“Hey, how the fuck do you know how to do that shit, anyway?”

“As a detective working in a dangerous field of humans and potential androids, I was programmed with advanced first aid techniques and android repair knowledge."

Hank snorted, unbalancing for a second and waving off Connor who had his hands out to help if necessary.

“Good to fuckin’ know, son. Good to know,” he muttered, finally taking the android’s arm just for a moment to get his bearings back, and patted it in thanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never dislocated a joint so I don't actually know how it feels, but I do know how to deal with it. Connor will make Hank put ice on the injury and rest when they get back, don't worry.  
> Also it's weird but fun to write Hank at the receiving end of hurt/comfort, how unusual for me!


	3. 104. "I've never felt stronger than when you're with me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The park bench marks bad memories for the both of them. Maybe it's time to make new ones.

Connor found Hank sitting on the park bench. He silently took a seat next to the lieutenant, noting the absence of alcohol.

The two stared out at the ‘quite a view’, as Hank had once said, together in companionable silence.

It was dusk for the season and the drowning sun in the sky shone a brilliant red and yellow across water and land, dully illuminating what it could before it sunk behind the horizon and disappeared until morning.

Without looking at the android, Hank abruptly said, “What do you think?”

“Of this spot?” Connor clarified, and glanced around to gather a quick conclusion without analysing (Hank had previously pointed out that it was not the same as a ‘proper’ opinion). “It’s nice,” he settled on, looking somewhat uncertainly back at the lieutenant to check whether that was an actual opinion or not. Hank said he could tell.

The human just nodded without taking his gaze off the sky, so Connor gathered that he had passed another unspoken test.

A bird trilled out its tune nearby. A light breeze blew through the trees.

Hank sighed, to himself or his thoughts Connor couldn’t tell. It was getting late but wasn’t too cold, so Connor wasn’t too concerned about that. He was, however, getting apprehensive about the lieutenant’s current mental state.

“Do you… wish to be alone? I can leave.”

Connor didn’t want to leave, but another quick scan confirmed that Hank had only 0.5% alcohol content in his blood, which was likely from a day or so ago at this point.

And he wondered if Hank had his revolver.

Finally, the man turned to look at him. Connor met his eyes, feeling a little apprehensive at the unsettled gaze, but it was warm too. Probability of danger: approximately 3% as the situation stood.

“Do you feel safe with me? I did some really shitty things before.” Hank words took Connor aback for a moment.

He blinked. “Lieutenant, I do not see you as a threat,” he replied calmly.

Hank nodded, though unconvinced, and glanced back at the sunset. “You’re… a great person, Connor. You deserve more than me,” he said, weariness seeping into his voice. “You can do more, and I’m dragging you down.”

Still only 0.5%. There was a pause as Connor tried to think of a gentle way to make Hank believe how untrue his statements were.

“I don’t agree,” he said without hesitation, also staring at the horizon as he talked. It was slightly easier to do so that way. Probably why humans did it so often.

Hank shrugged. “Okay,” he murmured. It wasn’t.

“No, it isn’t okay.” Connor stood up, drawing the man’s attention and blocking out the bleeding sun from his view. “You are an incredible police officer, a brilliant friend, and no doubt a fantastic father who has had awful things happen. Your personal problems are entirely valid and you are still here despite them.”

Connor identified frustration in himself as he tried to find more words to somewhat explain how the dejected statements felt like they actually _hurt_ to hear. Hank was staring at him.

“I care very strongly about you and though I accept your issues, I refuse to allow you to believe at least some of these ideas about yourself any more,” Connor continued, gesturing with his hands as he tried to get his point across.

Hank held up a hand as the android got more agitated. “It’s okay, I believe you, but, Connor, you really don’t have to—”

“No,” Connor said again, frustration leaking into his voice now, “It’s not okay.”

He paced for a second before turning back to his partner. “I take care of you because you are very important to me, and I acknowledge from various situations that you care about me as well, which is stunning, really. I stay with you not only because you have offered me shelter and companionship at a time when I had none, but also of my own free will, because I enjoy your company and wish to improve your life as little as I can with my presence and what help I can offer.”

There was light, reflected from the setting sun, back in Hank’s eyes as he sat there, just watching in some astonishment, listening to the android speak.

“And,” Connor took a breath he didn’t really need, meeting his friend’s eyes to convey the seriousness in all his words. “I’ve never felt stronger than when you’re with me.”

Hank didn’t say anything as the android stood there, wanting to fidget with his coin or something.

Then he stood up and immediately grabbed the boy, pulling him in for a rough hug that also served as a way to hide forming tears. “How the hell do I deserve you?” He murmured into Connor’s shoulder as the android breathed a sigh of relief, returning the hug.

“You’re just lucky,” Connor quipped, a smile in his voice, “and a brilliant person.”

They pulled apart, and Hank covered up his sniff by reaching out to ruffle Connor’s hair briefly. The last rays of sunlight bathed the two.

“C’mon. Let go home, son.” Hank started to lead the way back to the car, quickly brushing a coat sleeve over his face as he turned away and headed back through the empty park.

Connor glanced at the sun one last time and briefly smiled again before following, feeling lighter somehow.

Hank hadn’t had a gun with him.

As he caught up with the lieutenant, the man suddenly stopped, looking at the android with narrowed eyes. “Hang on.” He jabbed a finger at Connor accusingly. “No more of this ‘you care about me, that’s _stunning_ ’ bullshit, okay?” He said, deliberately mimicking the unusual adjective. “If I’m not allowed to feel bad about myself, neither are you, okay?”

“Got it, Lieutenant,” Connor replied. “Not allowed.”

Hank grunted, continuing to walk towards the car. “Yeah. Fuckin’ right,” he muttered, but there was only fondness to the curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got kind of deep but I'm actually really satisfied with it, I think (right now, at least). Because these boys need to talk about what they mean to each other in all seriousness. And I'm totally not projecting on Hank, nope.
> 
> Near the end I remembered a little comic of Papyrus and Sans from Undertale which was somewhat similar, and something I very much relate to with my friend. Don't think bad of yourself. Not allowed.  
> link: http://strugglingbutstillfighting.tumblr.com/post/173716313111/ameb-stuffnot-allowed


	4. 7. "I don't understand."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My plan line for this one was: 'Connor to Hank, general autistic android not understanding simple shit'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on me having to have mum help me decode one of my degree assignments into 'autism-friendly speak I can actually fucking understand', as quoted by me while trying to do said task. It's difficult sometimes. A lot of times.

Connor played with his coin as he waited for Hank to finish at his terminal. They had been processing paperwork from a recent red ice bust all day and if there was ever a reason for getting out during lunch, this was it.

“Y’ready, kid?”

He glanced at the lieutenant as Hank got up, stretched, and addressed him. Connor slipped his coin back into his pocket and nodded, stepping back as Hank took the lead and headed out the precinct.

They took a quick stroll through the nearby small park where Hank brought a sandwich – healthier than a burger but still full of unhealthy meat, something that he got a slightly disapproving look from the android for – which he ate quickly so they could get back before Fowler got on their asses, as Hank put it. There was still a whole lot of paperwork to do and working late was feeling more likely every hour.

A little while into the afternoon, Hank glanced up at Connor to see how he was getting on, and was met with the unusual sight of the kid frowning at his screen.

 Hank watched him for a minute before taking pity and leaning forward to ask, “Need some help?”

Connor glanced at him, seeming somewhat uncomfortable, and looked back at his screen in uncertainty, apparently not sure whether to accept the offer or not. Hank sighed and pushed his chair back, getting up and walking purposefully around to stand behind Connor’s chair.

“What is it? Gotta be pretty weird to stop you working,” he commented, squinting at the terminal screen to check.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was a long list of data relating to the bust, several notes in different boxes about how to file each thing, and a numbered list of what to look for.

It was fairly straightforward really, or at least was to a seasoned police lieutenant.

So, unable to place anything that was actually wrong on the screen, Hank glanced at Connor, carefully withholding any judgment in his expression until he found out what was actually wrong.

The android was, strangely, looking down at his barren desktop, his LED swirling an unsure yellow as he studiously avoided eye contact.

Hank frowned. “What’s up?”

He just got a shrug in return, Connor not even looking up. Hank glanced at the terminal again, then back at the android. He really couldn’t see a problem himself, but he waited patiently to see if Connor would elaborate.

“Son, you look like someone kicked your puppy,” Hank began as patiently as he could.

That got Connor’s attention; he looked up with a taking-things-literally frown. “Sumo is a full grown dog and as far as I am aware, no one has kicked him recentl—”

“It’s an expression,” Hank sighed, something he felt like he constantly had to establish, “and I mean the terminal. You were looking at it like something was wrong, but I can’t see anythin’ weird. So what’s up?”

Connor was quiet for another minute, and Hank was about to give up – they really did have a lot of work to get through, and he didn’t want to be here all night – when the android sighed unnecessarily and looked up with hesitation.

“I don’t understand,” he said simply.

Hank prompted, “Don’t understand what?”

He gestured helplessly to the terminal, still displaying the array of words and boxes and numbers. “Any of it,” he muttered, and looked down again.

Hank raised an eyebrow and looked from the terminal to Connor a couple of times more before coming to both a realisation and a conclusion. It wasn’t like they had to get back on time, anyway.

He tapped Connor on the shoulder – gently – and pointed at a specific box on the screen to start with.

“See that?” He asked. Connor nodded, unsure what the aim was. “Just focus on what’s in the box for a second, okay.” Hank reached over to type a couple of numbers in, separating the box’s instructions into different lines, each numbered one after the other.

Connor glanced up at him in confusion as Hank continued to modify the words in the box, phrasing its direction in a simpler manner before gesturing to the changed box. “That better?”

The android scanned the simplified instructions, surprise on his face as he read the easier words.

“Yes. A lot.” He blinked and looked back at Hank, who nodded, pleased.

“Good.”

“Why did you…?”

Hank shrugged, already heading back around the desks to his own work. “Work on that bit then I’ll do the rest if you need,” he simply replied.

He sat back down heavily and activated his terminal from its screensaver. Feeling Connor’s gaze on him, he glanced across their desks expectantly.

“…Thank you.”

Hank just nodded with a brief smile that someone other than a state-of-the-art prototype android might have missed. A state-of-the-art prototype that apparently seemed to have strikingly similar difficulties to what could be identified as autistic tendencies.

Not that Hank cared about labels. If he could do something to help the kid, he would. Even if it was rewording all his work so he could understand it.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get on with this shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently training a dog so these last two may take me a little while to write. Still hope they're alright.  
> One of my absolute favourite headcanons is autistic Connor. Fuckin fight me on that. But also don't because I'd get sensory overload and probably bolt. Woo autism things. I'd love to write more and project feelings onto fictional characters as usual, but we'll see.
> 
> Please comment and all that jazz if it's alright. Thank.


	5. 42. "Why are you shaking?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank may not be able to scan and confront a database to find the best approach to situations, but he knows how to look after a kid having trouble with emotions. Call it fatherly instinct. Or don't.

Hank had been staring at him for a while now. Well, to be exact, it had been approximately seventeen minutes since Hank had focused on his own terminal for long enough to do even the simplest of typing or research work. Therefore, he had been staring or otherwise distracted by Connor, for some apparent reason, consistently for a notable amount of time.

So, Connor paused in his work and calmly met his partner’s eyes across their joint desks, and asked, “Yes, Lieutenant?” as politely as he could – which was quite politely, since Connor was, after all, designed to integrate well into human society and therefore had exceptionally programmed social skills such as politeness as well as more work-focused skills such as interrogation.

His preliminary scans suggested that the question would most probably be met with a degree of aggression, denial of interest, or some kind of exasperated action like a sigh.

It was thus mildly surprising when Hank frowned, gestured with a nod at the android’s hands resting on his desk, and replied, “Why are you shaking?”

Connor blinked and looked down at his hands. They were, as sensory feedback had been informing him, flat and palm-down on the surface of the desk. They were also, however, trembling minutely. The discovery was more disconcerting due to the fact that Connor had not received any sort of information about his hands moving without conscious input in any way.

He lifted his arms up and frowned at his hands for a moment. Hank kept silent for as long as he could, which turned out to be approximately one minute and three seconds. Connor absently noted that he was currently fixated on numbers, which Hank often called his ‘failsafe’.

Apparently that meant that he focused on numbers when he felt particular emotions that could become overwhelming.

Hank said, “are… are you alright?”

There was some hesitation in the man’s voice, as if he wasn’t sure what to say or what exactly was happening currently. A feeling that Connor could identify due to the fact he was pretty sure he was feeling a similar, well, feeling.

Feeling was strange. Still. But apparently that wasn’t just a deviant thing – apparently some humans worked this way too. Sometimes it had to do with development disorders or mental health issues.

Connor realised he’d been continuously staring at his hands and hadn’t verbally replied when Hank’s chair scraped quietly on the floor as he stood, slowly rounding his desk to stand in a non-threatening way beside Connor’s, and waited patiently for Connor to look up.

“C’mon. Let’s go home.”

Well, that didn’t make sense. At all. That was neither routine nor expected in interrupted routines. “We have only been present in the station for approximately an hour and forty four minutes,” Connor stated, watching for Hank’s reaction.

The lieutenant sighed, but not in his usual exasperated way.

“You’re havin’ a bad day, son. You’ve already done a fuck load of work this week, and it’s Thursday. It’ll be fine.” He gave the confused android a rare small smile. “Let’s go back and have Sumo lay on you for a couple hours.”

Connor glanced back at his hands. Now they were in the air rather than resting on something, the shaking had become more pronounced. It… frustrated him. His systems told of no errors or even unauthorised movement in his limbs. It was as if his hands weren’t a part of him at this moment. They trembled of their own accord, and for no apparent reason. It was… upsetting, almost.

Naming emotions could sometimes be difficult. There were so many.

Hank tapped Connor’s desk with his fingers, making a soft, dull, rhythmic sound to attract his attention without touching or startling him. Connor appreciated it, and nodded to show he was listening before using his slightly malfunctioning – maybe? – hands to push chair away from desk and stand.

As they walked out of the precinct without further interruption or any questioning – possibly due to Hank’s general known personality – Connor allowed himself to wonder how he would fare if they stayed.

The thought troubled him. He wasn’t even… feeling anything right now, nothing that would make the day particularly difficult other than a slight unease and now, some sort of drifting feeling. He ran a quick search. Possibly sensory issues or slight dissociation.

Or both.

Either way, the feeling made Connor uncomfortable and concerned about the amount of work he could get professionally done if they did stay.

So, satisfied with his conclusions, he followed Hank out of the building and to the car, nodding gratefully when his partner quietly opened the door and entered the car, not reaching for the radio immediately like usual.

As they started moving, the only sound a quiet thrum from the old car’s engine, Connor rested his head on the window and decided to close his eyes so he couldn’t focus on his hands again.

They headed home, and each wondered how they managed to deserve the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't great but I'm busy at the moment and I just wanted to get this series done, so I just started writing and it turned into validating myself and my feelings and shit through fictional characters. Wow, not like I don't do that all the time.
> 
> Anyway, these sort of series are vaguely difficult because I like to do something and complete it as much as possible, so having to come back to something to complete it gets, well, difficult for me, or something, idk. But I did it eventually!
> 
> Please let me know if my writing is any good, and thank you for taking the time to read. Thank you :)

**Author's Note:**

> I asked my friend to choose five random numbers which I used to get beginning sentences from a prompt number list and write five short drabbles based on Hank and Connor because they are my trash cop family and need to be written about bc they're great.
> 
> Kudos and comment if you please :)
> 
> List from tumblr: http://strugglingbutstillfighting.tumblr.com/post/176330637121/drabble-list-2


End file.
